


Monochromitia

by princesitka



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Shiro is a frat boy, Underage Drinking, colorblind au, the red solo cup of fate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesitka/pseuds/princesitka
Summary: Shiro is a frat boy who's never really given much thought to the fact he hasn't seen color before, doesn't mind it really.Until he sees the solo cup from across the room while doing a keg stand.And the beautiful purple eyes of the boy holding it.Based onwuffen'ssoulmate frat AU comic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes this will have more chapters!! Kisses!!! Love!!! Angst!! Smut!!! 
> 
> Also go give wuffen all your love pls!!
> 
> Last but not least, follow my [tumblr](http://princesitka.tumblr.com/) for updates and more of my writing! Feel free to ask me anything you'd like to know related to this fic as well!!

Friday morning started as it usually did for Shiro— on the floor. 

With a groan, he opened his eyes to take in the charcoal of the ceiling and the dust motes swirling through the air in the morning light. Had there been a party last night? How much had he drank? Would this finally be the point in which he needed to call a chiropractor?

A person appeared in his vision, followed by a gentle nudge to his left leg. “Hey man, you alive?”

Shiro threw his arm over his eyes. “Kind of. What time is it?”

“Time for me to go to class and for you to chug a gallon of water before going to your class.” 

A large plastic water bottle was placed next to Shiro’s head, followed by a bottle of what Shiro assumed was probably ibuprofen. 

“Thanks, Matt.” Shiro muttered as he heard Matt chuckle and stand.

“No problem, buddy. Feel better.” 

At the sound of steps and the door to the house opening and closing, Shiro grunted and hoisted himself into a sitting position. The regret was immediate, a dull ache pulsating through his skull and making him squeeze his eyes shut in pain. Shiro was no stranger to hangovers, but it had been awhile since he’d had one this bad. 

He grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and worked the lid off, knocking back two tablets with large gulps of water. Usually, he made it a point to stay hydrated during a night of partying to avoid making himself feel like he was on death’s door in the morning, and he cursed last night’s Shiro for not sticking to his regimen of one glass of water for every two beers. As he drank more of the water, he tried to dredge up memories of the night before. He thought he vaguely remembered eating a large amount of chicken nuggets and then puking in the bushes outside, but those memories could have honestly been from any of the parties he’d hosted or attended within the last few years.

The smell of crackling bacon halted him in his trip down drunken memory lane, and he felt himself beginning to wretch, his empty stomach clenching in on itself. He covered his mouth and hurtled himself toward the garbage can next to the TV stand, dry heaving up nothing but saliva and sour morning breath. 

A warm hand pressed between his shoulder blades and rubbed in soothing motions. “You good, bro?” 

Shiro glanced up at the soft smile of his fraternity’s resident cook, saliva still dripping down his chin in thin ropes. He nodded, turning again to spit into the garbage can before pushing himself up to stand. Hunk caught him as he wobbled, still unsure of his legs and how exactly to make them work. 

“Come on, I’m making breakfast in the kitchen. We’ll get you some oatmeal or eggs or something.” Hunk said as he hauled Shiro towards the doorway, letting him lean heavily on his sturdy frame. Lance was already seated at the kitchen table, shoving forkfuls of scrambled eggs drenched in ketchup down his throat and humming appreciatively at his breakfast. Hunk dropped Shiro into the chair beside him before patting his back one last time and returning to his post at the stove. 

“Wow, you look like shit.” Lance said around the eggs occupying his mouth. “You fuckin’ wrecked yourself last night, dude.”

“I think you mean he wrecked you.” Hunk said without glancing over his shoulder, cracking more eggs into a sizzling pan.

Lance sputtered, ketchup dribbling out the corner of his mouth. “Did not! It was really close!”

“What was really close?” Shiro asked, resting his arms on the table and leaning his head down. The plastic table cloth felt sticky under his ruddy cheek. 

“Fuck, you don’t remember?” Lance asked, raising a thin eyebrow. He paused a moment before breaking into a shit eating grin. “We had a drinking contest and you passed out! It was totally epic, all the hot babes were all over me like, ‘Ooh Lancey Lance, I can’t believe you’re sooo sexy and sooo much better than that dickweed Lotor! Please make out with us!’” He brought the fork to his mouth, making obscene slurping noise and running his tongue along the prongs.

“Hey! You stop that! People eat with those you know, I eat with those!” Hunk protested, stabbing his spatula threateningly in Lance’s general direction. “And that is not what happened, like, at all.”

Shiro groaned. “Can you guys just please tell me what actually happened?” 

“Yeah, Lance apparently felt threatened because Lotor brought a bunch of girls into the house last night so he decided to show off by challenging you to a drinking contest, which you won, of course. Lance passed out after nine beers and I found him this morning buck ass naked on the front lawn. The neighbors were not happy.” Hunk said, using his spatula to scoop a panful of eggs onto a plate. “I’m gonna take them some cookies this afternoon to try and make up for it.” 

“You should draw little butts on them and pin a note on the basket that says, ’Hope your day is as nice as Lance’s ass!’” Lance said, standing to drop his empty plate into the kitchen sink. 

“I think that’d be counter productive.” 

“Cookies and an ass as fine as mine is never counter productive. Anyway, have a blessed day, my good bros.” Lance said grabbing his bag from the back of his chair. “Hope you’re ready for round numero dos at the party tonight, Shiro, you’re going down!” He pumped his fist in the air and skipped out of the kitchen, leaving Shiro staring at the ceiling and wondering why he’d ever joined a fraternity in the first place. 

“Fuck, we’re having a party tonight?”

Hunk gave him a small smile, setting a plate of fluffy eggs in front of him. “Eat up man, you’re gonna need all the strength you can get.”

 

 

Epsilon Sigma Phi was Garrison University’s most notorious fraternity. The parties they threw were legendary, and most of their brothers were guaranteed high salary jobs in their career field after graduation. As a senior, Shiro was one of their head officers, which really only meant he had to do way less work around the house than their new recruits. He remembered when he had first joined Epsilon Sigma Phi, fresh out of high school. He’d been a star on the football team, guaranteed a scholarship by some of the best schools in the country. 

But then he’d gotten into an accident his junior year. 

His right arm had been crushed after he’d been thrown from his car and trapped under the car that had nearly killed him. In his shattered arm’s place he’d gotten a shiny new one, made of cutting edge synthetic materials that his parents assured him was the best money could buy. 

Shiro hadn’t really cared if he got a new arm at all.

His career as an athlete was ruined in a matter of seconds. He’d never go to the NFL. Would never get to have the lights of the stadium beating down on his back again.

Eventually, he found himself. This time, in the research he did in aerospace engineering and his desire to build spacecrafts that could carry humans across the galaxy. Shiro was a dreamer, and if he didn’t dream big, he felt there was no point to dreaming in the first place. 

His thoughts swirled through his mind, dancing behind his eyes in varying swirls of gray as he ran on a treadmill in the University’s gym. He thought about the party tonight and how he needed to take it easy, and the test he had Monday in Calculus II that he should definitely study for. They were dispelled by the not very quiet whispering of two girls behind him, both of whom were giggling at each other while bouncing on exercise balls.

“God, look at his ass!”

“I know, I can’t wait for Epsilon Sigma Phi’s party tonight. Fuck, why can’t I be lucky enough to have Takashi Shirogane as my soulmate, I wanna be bound to those thighs forever.”

Soulmate. 

For as much as Shiro dreamed, he’d never really given his soulmate much thought. 

They said when you found your soulmate, your world would explode, completely change. Though most people went their whole lives without finding theirs, settling instead for someone they liked well enough but never feeling truly complete. 

Some said that when you found your soulmate, you’d finally get to see color. 

Shiro didn’t mind the fact that he only saw things in shades of gray, he’d grown up with it his whole life, and it was hard to miss something you’d never seen. 

He clicked the button on the treadmill, turning it off, and turned to smile at the girls who’d been whispering about him too loudly.

Shiro really didn’t have time for a soulmate.

 

The frat house was bright and booming when Shiro returned, the party already in full swing. The porch had been dominated by the smokers, and the living room by a kiddie pool full of Jell-o, a product of Lance’s own imagination. 

“Dude, you gotta try doing a belly flop in this stuff!” Lance yelled excitedly over the booming bass of the music blaring over the speakers, hooking an arm around Shiro’s shoulders. 

Shiro just laughed, knocking his beer bottle against Lance’s. “I think I’ll leave that to you and Hunk for tonight.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow, the shit eating grin from that morning returning. “Alright then, you ready for round two?”

“Lance, do you want to fucking kill me?”

“No, I just want to beat you so I stop having to do all the shitty chores like cleaning the toilet. Now stop being a pussy and we’ll see who lasts longer at a keg stand.”

Before Shiro knew it, he was helping Lance down from the top of the keg, watching as he whooped and punched the air before falling backwards onto the ground. “20 seconds! Beat that, bitch!”

Shiro thought his personal best was somewhere over a minute, but he wasn’t entirely sure because he’d passed out shortly after.

He positioned his hands on either side of the keg, poising himself so his friends could lift his legs in the air. Doing a keg stand was like an art form to Shiro, who kept his body taut and let his eyes flutter closed as the spout of the tap was placed between his lips.

“One!”

Shiro knew his shirt had slipped down, revealing his broad chest for everyone to see. Could feel the light breeze blow the drawstrings of his sweatpants against his stomach. 

“Two! Three!” 

Time was moving slowly. Shiro felt as if he was weighed down, tethered to the keg underneath him like it was an anchor. 

“Four!”

A warm light touched his eyelids and Shiro fought through the haze, beer flooding his throat and sloshing it’s way to his belly. He could feel the light, soft and gentle, and when he cracked his eyes open he could just barely see it.

Red.

“Five!”

His eyes shot open. The cup just off to the side of him was swathed in an ethereal red glow. It was the most beautiful thing Shiro had ever seen.

He thought.

Until his eyes swept up to the person holding it.

“Six!”

The boy holding the cup was smiling, talking to someone else. 

But then his eyes met Shiro’s.

“Seven!”

Blinding light burst through the gray haze in a swirl of purple and red, exploding through Shiro. He felt like he was being drenched by a warm summer rain, he insides twisting and shifting and growing accustomed to the all consuming light. The boy’s face was so alive, with eyes of beautiful purple amethyst and skin the color of porcelain. His face was framed by ebony hair that he wore pulled back from his face and oh, fuck, Shiro may have been a college frat boy but he wanted to write lines of poetry about those perfect lips. Even from upside down, Shiro could tell he was perfect. 

“Eight!”

Shiro spat out the tap, his arms quivering and failing him as beer poured from his throat. He heard Lance yell as he fell backwards, one sandal flying off his foot as he landed on the floor. 

Everything else faded away and Shiro sat up, his gaze trained only on the ethereal figure that approached him.

“Hey!” Shiro said, beer mixed with spit dripping down his chin. He leaned forward, feeling himself breaking into a giddy grin. “Are you suddenly seeing colors?! What’s your name?”

The boy bore down on him, throwing his red plastic cup over his shoulder, it’s contents spilling across the carpet. 

“Because—“

“Shut up.”

Lips crashed into Shiro’s and a firm hand gripped his t-shirt, pulling him in. The boy fell into his lap, straddling him as he pressed in closer. Shiro’s eyes fell closed and his mouth opened, the kiss turning soft as their tongues pressed together. 

The boy pulled away, only slightly, and Shiro took in the sight of his kiss flushed face.

“Can’t believe my first kiss with my soulmate tastes like shitty beer.”

“Yeah?” Shiro smiled coyly, leaning in and pressing his prosthetic thumb to the boy’s lips.

“The second one, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this 5 times and I'd rewrite it a 6th if I loved myself enough.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://princesitka.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/R5R39WMI)

Keith Kogane fucking hated parties.

Well, actually, he didn’t hate all parties. A small and intimate group of friends having fun and sharing some drinks was considered a party, right? Keith liked those. What he hated were giant conglomerations of people who barely knew each other getting piss drunk and sweating all over the place.

He’d been that way since high school, sitting awkwardly in a stranger’s living room in his checkered Vans and ripped My Chemical Romance t-shirt. The rest of his friends had been partiers, social butterflies, something that Keith wasn’t. They convinced him to go to house shows only to leave him behind most of the time, preferring to chase after band members and hang out with their older friends. 

And so, to avoid the inevitable threat of being placed in another awkward social situation he didn’t want to be in, he usually avoided parties. And house shows. Basically any event where mingling was encouraged. 

Which was why he was trying to ward his best friend off with a shield of blankets as she tried to bully him into going to a frat party with her. Where mingling was definitely a thing.

“Piss off, Pidge.” He groaned as he was smacked on the side of the head with a pair of jeans. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”

Pidge stood menacingly at the side of his dorm room bed, if you could consider someone who could barely climb up onto the top of the mattress menacing. Standing at 5’1”, she was a force to be reckoned with. 

“You are literally bingeing Shameless on Netflix, which you do every Friday night, and Saturday too I’d like to add. Now put your pants on and spray some Febreeze of your shirt or something, stinky. We’re going to free beer.”

She had him there. He usually did spend his weekend nights bingeing shows on Netflix, but it was genuinely something Keith looked forward too. As a Journalism major with a minor in Studio Art, he was always strapped for creativity. Weekends were like a Godsend to him, and he reveled in laying in his own mess of sweat and way too many blankets and not having to think for awhile. 

“Hey, do you think Jeremy Allen White could be my soulmate?”

Another firm denim slap accosted his body, this time on his naked thigh that had managed to sneak its way out from under his blankets.

“Highly unlikely. And no one’s gonna be your soulmate if you never leave your dorm room.” Pidge said, finally dropping her weapon of choice (Keith’s only pair of clean jeans) into his lap. “Now come on, Lip Gallagher will be here for you when you get back.”

Keith threw himself back onto the bed dramatically, limbs spreading out like a starfish. 

“Fine, but I’m not going to like it.”

 

He kind of liked it. But only a little.

The Epsilon Sigma Phi house was fairly small and Keith thought it would have been sort of homey if not for the beer cans and cigarette butts littering the floors and tables. The party pulsed around him, and he nodded in approval when someone decided to blast Africa by Toto over the speakers. 

The warm feeling in his toes was also a plus, but the fact that he’d had to drink three cups of beer that tasted like watered down piss to get there was not.

Keith currently had himself planted near the wall of the living room clutching his plastic cup in one hand and petting a dog with the other. He had been incredibly enthusiastic when the dog had shown up, and was making plans to steal the couch on the other end of the living room for himself and the large german shepherd to cuddle on for the next couple of hours. 

Besides that, he had been more of a quiet observer than a party goer, a wallflower of sorts. He had watched as some of the fraternity brothers did belly flops into a kiddy pool filled with Jell-o, and was now currently witnessing a skinny guy being held upside down on top of keg. The guy’s arms began to twitch as the surrounding crowd counted higher and higher, and after what seemed like a slightly impressive (but not by a lot) amount of time, he finally gave in, swinging down from the top of the keg and stumbling to fall backwards.

“20 seconds! Beat that, bitch!” He yelled, and Keith snorted before turning back to scratching behind the dog’s ears. 

“How am I not surprised to find you with a dog instead of a human?” Pidge mused as she sauntered up beside him and dropped down to give the dog more head scratches, to which he thumped his tail on the carpet appreciatively.

“Because I am the designated dog finder at parties. If there is a dog, I will find him, pet him, and let him know he’s a good boy.” Keith said seriously, watching as the dog licked Pidge’s cheek and almost dislodged her glasses.

“Amazing. Hey, do you wanna go to Denny’s after we’re done here? Because-“

Keith didn’t mean to ignore what Pidge was saying to him, he really didn’t, but the warm feeling in his toes had started curling up his spine and blooming across his sternum. He felt as if the room had stopped moving around him, the raucous cheers of the frat fading into a dull roar and one part of the room shining so, so bright. 

His gaze shifted only slightly.

Poised on top of the keg from before was a different guy, shirt folded down to reveal a lovingly sculpted chest, but that wasn’t what struck Keith the most about him.

Because when he swept his eyes from the guy’s navel down to half lidded eyes, he felt himself go numb.

The warmth encompassed him, filling his body like he’d filled his plastic cup with beer far too many times that night, and felt as if it were fizzling out the tips of his fingers. The guy fell backwards, spraying golden beer everywhere as he went, and for the first time he realized he could tell what color beer was.

He was beginning to see color.

Pidge’s protests fell on deaf ears as Keith surged forward as if he were a man possessed, towards the guy who was now pulling himself into a sitting position on the living room floor.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, and Keith took in the flush of his skin, the pink of his lips, the gray of his eyes that didn’t even compare to the gray his world had been before. He was saying other things now, too, but Keith didn’t have time for those, didn’t have time to even set his cup down, tossing it over his shoulder instead. For the first time in his life, he saw color. Color, and person who had finally brought it into his world.

His soulmate.

“Shut up.” Keith said simply, and grabbed the guy, his soulmate, by the front of his beer stained t-shirt and crashed into him with a searing kiss. The kiss was wet, and it took a moment for the guy to reciprocate, but Keith willingly opened his mouth for him, letting their tongues brush in a kind of caress. 

Keith pulled away first, mouth lingering just a few inches from his soulmate’s and eyes fluttering open.

“Can’t believe my first kiss with my soulmate tastes like shitty beer.” 

The guy grinned, leaning back in to trace Keith’s lips with a thumb that Keith realized was not human but prosthetic, noses bumping together.

“Yeah, the second one, too.”

He pulled Keith in with a strong arm around his waist, and their lips met for the second time, with all the passion they had to give each other and just the right amount of urgency. It was a slow burn, finally igniting into a flame when his soulmate finally decided he didn’t want to stay on the floor anymore, standing and pulling Keith with him.

Keith couldn’t help but be impressed that he was holding him up with one arm hooked around his waist, but was also equally terrified at being picked up so suddenly.

“Jesus fuck!” He yelled in protest, clawing at the back of his soulmates white t-shirt and definitely also not checking out how defined those back muscles were. 

“Hey so, uh, we’re gonna go upstairs and talk. Right now. Okay?” The guy yelled back to where Keith was only sort of slumped over his shoulder, and smiled when Keith nodded in confirmation.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know.”

“Yeah but I want to.” Keith couldn’t argue with that, the adrenaline of finally getting to see color and also meeting his soulmate were doing funny things to the alcohol in his bloodstream anyway.

“Yo, Shiro, where you going bro? What the fuck happened?” It was the skinny guy from before who stopped them, just as his soulmate, or rather Shiro, had started to ascend the stairs.

Keith decided he didn’t really want to zero in on that conversation, and instead tried to communicate to a flustered Pidge from across the room that he was just fine, better than fine, actually, all through crude hand gestures behind Shiro’s back. Of which he was still draped over. 

One bumpy and somewhat awkward trip up the stairs later and Keith was bounced onto the bed of what he assumed was Shiro’s room by strong arms, his head smacking off the bordering wall.

“Oh shit.” Shiro gasped, reaching out on instinct to try and cradle the back of Keith’s head but stopping just a few inches shy. All the bravado and adrenaline from before had melted away, replaced by nervousness and genuine wonderment. 

Instead of sitting next to Keith on the bed, Shiro kneeled down in front of him on the floor, looking suspiciously like the german shepherd Keith had left downstairs. He hoped someone was petting him in his absence. 

“God, your eyes are beautiful. They’re purple, right? Wow, I didn’t even know eyes could be purple.” Shiro whispered reverently, settling back onto his calves.

“I don’t know, never seen ‘em before. Also that was a great apology for almost giving me a concussion, thanks.” Keith said absentmindedly, scanning the interior of the room, which was shockingly clean for a frat boy. “I like your space map poster things.”

Shiro grinned. “Thanks. I like your, uh… Hair?”

“Grew it myself.” Keith replied dryly, now staring down the white forelock that graced his soulmate’s head. He wondered if it was natural or if Shiro intentionally did that to himself. 

“So. We’re soulmates. Bound for life and shit.” Shiro was fidgeting now, rubbing the grain of hair at the back of his head. “I’m Takashi Shirogane, I’m an Aerospace Engineering Major—“

“Woah, okay. And I’m going to take a piss before we get into this.” Keith announced, standing on wobbly legs and brushing past Shiro towards the door. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall to the left.” Shiro said, and Keith did his best to sweep out of the room with as much confidence as he had when he’d first pulled Shiro in for a kiss.

Once he’d locked himself in the bathroom, Keith found the nearest and least disgusting looking towel, pressed it to his face, and screamed. After that was out of the way, he looked himself square in the face in the cloudy mirror above the sink.

“Who are you? Your soulmate is a big beefy frat boy with one hand and skunk ass hair.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who can toss you around like a rag doll and loves space.”

Keith turned his gaze upwards, fixing his glare on the ceiling. “Do not kink shame me, Lord.”

After splashing his face with cold water a few times and marveling at all the different colors hand soap came in, Keith returned to Shiro’s room. 

Only to be greeted by gentle snores very much coming from his soulmate passed out on the middle of the bed. 

“Fuck, he snores.” Keith whispered to no one in particular. “This is probably because I stopped going to church.” 

 

After debating for awhile if he should wake Shiro up or not, Keith opted for writing his number and “Call me for a good time” on a post it note, sticking it on Shiro’s chest, and high tailing it out of there with Pidge in tow to the safe haven of Denny’s. She was still sort of annoyed at him for almost leaving her completely in the dark, but she was coming around quickly now that Keith could tell her what color things were. He was in the middle of dunking one of his chicken strips in honey mustard and describing to Pidge what yellow was like when a text alert sounded on his phone. 

**(Unknown)**  
**Hey soulmate, its Shirt. Sorry i fell asleep. Thx for ur number btw.**

Keith quickly set Shiro’s contact information to Shirt before he had time to correct himself. 

“They say that 1 out of 500 people find their soulmates within their lifetimes.” Pidge said over the rim of her coffee cup, glasses fogged up so Keith couldn’t see her eyes.

“Well damn.” Keith said, slapping one chicken tender with another with great finality. “Someone better let Lip Gallagher know I’m off the market.”


End file.
